


An Okay World

by TrekFaerie



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Desperation, F/M, Memory Related, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In perfect worlds, things go a certain way. This isn’t one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Okay World

She didn’t want to move again.

 

She had been moving around Ooo for hundreds of years, trying to escape all of the… stuff. Stuff with her dad, stuff with Bonnibel, stuff with Si—Ice— whatever he wanted to be called now.

 

That last one hurt the worst.

 

It was all as confusing for her now as it had been when she was just a kid, trying to figure out why Simon kept acting weirder and weirder until, one day, he just left. Left her to the ruins and the demons and the vampires and the land constantly shifting like a sand painting, twisting and turning until the grass started to grow again but different and the people who weren’t people grew and learned to speak and work and live, and suddenly it was just Marceline as a relic of the old world, the only other relic somewhere far off but somehow always managing to get closer.

 

But then another relic had shown up: a human, like Simon had been, like her mother had been, like the smallest fraction of her was, alone but raised by extra-dimensional dogs and convinced he was a hero. It had been rocky, really rocky, but the kid somehow managed to become her friend, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. And with him came more friends, and adventures, and the best time she’d had in her centuries of living.

 

And then the Ice King had shown up.

 

And she _ached_ for him.

 

It was the ache she had felt as a teenager, before the Vampire King had sucked it out of her, the ache she had felt when Simon, his hair wild, his glasses long-forgotten fragments, the crown ever-present on his head, disappeared in the night. No explanations, no good-byes, no letters; even though she learned later that he had accidentally taken all of those along with him, it had still hurt. She was scared, and alone, and she wanted him.

 

For the longest time, she thought she had just wanted him as a father figure, but— well, she didn’t have the greatest luck with those. And she had his respect, and his love… in a way, when he could break through the fog, which seemed to happen more often as time went by. (Or was she just telling herself that?…) The crown, stupid thing, was somewhere in Finn and Jake’s massive treasure piles, sliced cleanly in half and trapped in an obsidian box of flame. In a perfect world, it would all be over, but Marceline had learned early on that the Earth, even before the war, was not perfect all.

 

But, she could try for an okay world.

 

She decided not to move.

 

Some days she spent normally, hanging with her friends— wow— or just bumming around her house, but on some days, she packed up her bass and flew over to the Ic— Si— it really depended on the day— the ice castle and to her oldest friend. They jammed, they talked, Marceline would pretend not to cry, and, on the really good days, Simon would let her braid his hair, like she did when she was a kid.

 

It was one of those days.

 

His skin was even colder than her dead flesh, but it didn’t bother her much; she was getting more and more used to the cold the longer she stayed with him. She was focused on an especially tricky knot— Simon’s hair always stayed unmanageably long, even without the crown— when she noticed that Simon had a really smooth neck. For somebody that was easily her age and more, he definitely didn’t look it. Maybe dark magic was as good for the body as vampirism, but she’d never admit that to her—

 

“Er, Marcy, you aren’t hungry, are you?”

 

At some point, her lips had made their way to Simon’s neck. She could’ve eaten her own face.

 

Simon turned around to face her, and he looked _ridiculous_. Half his hair was done into neat little plaits, the other half worse than before. He was wearing the thick glasses Bonni had cooked up, since his wizard eyes only worked right half the time. He was wearing his bathrobe— she hated the tunic— and his spindly little legs stuck out weirdly.

 

She laughed, the weird kind of laugh where your stomach hurts and you feel worse afterwards. And then she kissed him.

 

It took him about five seconds to throw her off. “ _Just what do you think_ — I’m sorry I pushed you.” It was weird, how he went from mad to sad to happy in a blink, but she was (getting) used to it. “Marceline, what was that about?”

 

Her hands gripped the front of his bathrobe, and she turned her head down so he couldn’t see her eyes. “Just do this for me, okay?!” Her voice sounded hysterical even to her own ears. “Just once, please! You probably won’t even remember, just… Please…”

 

A thin finger found its way under her chin and lifted it up, until their eyes met. There was a lot in those eyes: sadness, regret, shame. And just the slightest touch of horrible, painful desire.

 

The next kiss had more to it, teeth and tongue and desperation, a thousand years of loneliness crashing like a wave against the sand. Her fang sliced his lower lip and red— dark red, human red— slipped out. She licked it up like a starving man.

 

“Simon, please…” The bathrobe was easy, just untie and push back; her clothes were significantly harder. Leather jacket, tank top, studded belt, skinny jeans so tight she never wore panties under them— until she was completely naked and shivering in the icy room, and he was lying back on the clear floor, robe splayed out beneath him. Not perfect. Okay.

 

She could never be wet for him, for all that she wanted it, so she tried her best with his blood and her spit, mixed together on her hand as she reached for his cock with an urgency that made him breathe out sharply from the pain. The slide in burned them both, but they sat there breathing and holding each other until it subsided into something else, something that dulled the ache and want. When it flared again, they moved, until they were cracking the ice with their unnatural strength, desperation overtaking sense.

 

“Please, Simon! Oh Glob, oh Glob, oh— oh _God!_ ”

 

Her body wracked with shudders, nails digging into terrycloth like it was her last connection to reality. It wasn’t a true orgasm; she was dead, of course, so she didn’t have those. But Simon was dead, too, or something like it, and when he found his completion inside of her it was something close to melted ice water.

 

As they came down in each other’s arms, Simon gave her a look, one that foretold very serious conversations once the parties involved regained their ability to think. But, that didn’t worry her. By tomorrow, everything would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> no regrets
> 
> just love


End file.
